Waiting for Fitz

by Spencer Hyde

  “It’s okay to laugh. I’ve never heard those two before. In fact, I need to catch up with Doug, so I hope you’re okay with our time being a bit shorter this morning. Mind telling him to come in when you leave?”

  I stood, perhaps too quickly, too eager to get out of his office and away from his stare. Doc cleared his throat, and I wondered if he was going to say one last thing, like “You’ll never get away with it.” Like, he was waiting to see if I’d be honest after giving me every opportunity to talk about it, and he finally had to lay down the law or whatever. But all he said was “Make sure you keep track of these thoughts. I want to talk more tomorrow about this idea of changing the past. It’s a wonderful thought, Addie.”

  My whole body relaxed, and I sighed as I turned the corner away from Doc’s office and shouted Didi’s way. I wondered how everyone else was handling their morning, and how they were dealing with keeping the secret a secret. I saw Wolf rocking back and forth on his feet near the entrance and realized it might be easier for some to keep a secret than for others.

  The moon was still visible in the sky. I stared at it and thought about the light reflecting off the moon from the sun and wondered just how long that light took to reach me. How many minutes? How many years before the starlight reached us on earth? I wondered if there really was a man in the moon, and if so, did he have a handsome gap? Probably not. There’s only one Fitz.

  Eight

  Screenwriters should stop going to the same school, or at least stop writing the same stories. The movie Junior picked—High School Musical—got louder as the students broke out into a simultaneous dance and song after tearing up their midterm exams or something. Nobody dances like that in school. Nobody dances like that anywhere, really. I understood why Junior hated this film. I almost threw up, but controlled my gag reflex and looked at my feet until feeling came back to my stomach. Just kidding, it wasn’t that bad, but it did seem like a very tired narrative.

  Another student on screen began preaching about the finer points of life, and why the other students had missed out on those good things for so long. They all agreed to fight the powers that be, one dance at a time, smiling their way to a restructuring of enforcement. How vogue. At least the lead actor was kind of attractive, so I daydreamed about being in that school and meeting him. Then I saw Fitz and realized I already had that. I know, I know, way too mushy. I agree.

  Fitz was wearing his Namaste in Tonight shirt—seriously, we had maybe four different shirts and a couple pairs of pants, nothing spectacular—and I commented on the irony of his clothing choice considering tonight was the night we were escaping.

  On screen, one of the students swiped something from the teacher’s desk, only for the teacher to immediately notice it was missing. It was a playful gesture, but it made me nervous.

  “Isn’t Martha going to notice that we never returned from our different errands or whatever?”

  “I’m not worried about Martha,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  Fitz started laughing. “Willy, that’s a good one. I think you should tell Toby. I’m kind of busy. Sorry, Addie,” he said.

  “No worries. Can you tell me?”

  “I could tell you, but then I’d feel bad. It’s kind of lousy.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Maybe later, Willy,” he said, motioning for Willy to take a hike. “Sorry. But getting back to what you were asking: Martha will have to work on an incident report with Potts because of Leah’s running. It won’t be anything serious, but you know they have to report all of that. Martha is forgetful. And even if she does notice, we’ll be long gone.”

  “Speaking of long gone,” I said. “Where do you plan on staying tonight when we get out? We have to think of these things, or we’ll really be up a creek.”

  “We’ll take a bus to a motel near where the ferries launch to the island. We’ll be fine,” he said, slouching in his chair. “Won’t we, guys?” He leaned to his left and nodded his head and kept saying things like, “Yep, sounds good,” and “Wouldn’t have it any other way” until I hit him in the arm. “You’ve got to understand that we won’t be alone,” he said, smiling at me.

  I was glad Fitz was able to make light of his situation. I think I’d be terrified knowing I would never be alone, that those voices would always be there. I guess we all have an interior monologue, but for it to be so insistent and loud and populated would be impossible to ignore. Maybe his life was a series of interruptions, and he lived in the space between. He lived in the spurts and spats between the longer moments of conversing with the imaginary group that followed him everywhere.

  Maybe Doc was confident he could rid Fitz entirely of those intrusions, but I doubted it. If this was the best Fitz had ever been, I figured he would never really get past those other voices in the background. It made me sad. I rested my hand on his briefly.

  “My heart is like a freaking hummingbird,” I said.

  “Then I’ll go first,” he said.

  Fitz asked Jenkins if he could walk him to his room—I didn’t hear the excuse he gave, but I started thinking of how I was going to have to trick Martha. I didn’t know what to do. Why hadn’t we planned better what we were going to do? At least we’d thought of breaking our pills in half the day before. That would buy us at least one day on the outside before the tremors hit.

  Fitz returned ten minutes later, just as the students on the screen were breaking into song in the gym after passing the basketball around. They all looked so happy; it was actually quite wonderful. But it was so easy to see through those masks. Everyone wears a mask, but actors get to change theirs constantly. I kind of envied the way they played different parts and got to live different lives. They could empathize with so many types of people, of personhood. If actors were the opposite of people, what did that make me? A series of masks, maybe.

  “I’m so nervous,” I said, alternating my blinks at a rapid rate.

  “I didn’t do anything but go to the bathroom,” he said.

  “What?”

  “It was a dumb idea to try the change-of-clothes thing,” he said. “It’s too obvious. Why didn’t we think of that? Of course they’ll notice we walked into our room with nothing and came out with a bundle under our shirt or something. So stupid. But I did grab our pills. I can pocket those.”

  “Good. The pills are the most important thing. It’s not like we need the extra clothes, right? I mean, we’ll need to stop someplace for shoes either way.”

  Fitz smiled and flashed that handsome gap.

  “Luckily you won’t get too many looks in Seattle for walking around barefoot. But I agree, we should get something for our feet.”

  I wanted to keep talking to Fitz, but I was too nervous. I tapped my hand on each leg seventeen times and then repeated the process. I asked Martha if I could use the restroom so I could wash my hands, and she obliged. When I got back, the movie was reaching the closing scene where the students were dancing on some massive stage in a giant auditorium or something. It looked ridiculous.

  “Sure is true to life, isn’t it?” said Fitz, loud enough that Junior could hear.

  “Just like my childhood,” I said, just as loud. “I always danced in class when I wanted to really feel alive.”

  As the credits rolled, I realized I hadn’t spent enough time emotionally preparing myself for the chain of events that was about to be set in motion with Junior’s outburst.

  I wished we had spent another few weeks planning everything or had gone over the details more, but Fitz was adamant about the timeline for some reason, and he still wouldn’t tell me why. Maybe I was wrong to trust him, but at the time I only knew he was desperate and I wanted to help. I wanted to find out my own answers, too, for Dr. Morris and for myself. Maybe I was more selfish than I let on. Whatever.

  Junior stood up just then and heaved a chair into the wall—harder t
han usual. He broke through the drywall. He knocked over another chair just as the orderlies stood and walked his way.

  “Where’s a knife?” he yelled, lifting another chair over his head. “I’m gonna rip their cute little faces out of that screen! Nobody is that happy!”

  The orderlies backed away, and Junior threw a second chair into the wall. Jenkins grabbed Junior, and I could tell that Junior was strong enough to break free but chose not to. He fought it off for a while to really sell it, though.

  He looked at us and winked as the orderlies dragged him to the door. He kept shouting about a knife to make sure he’d go on suicide watch. I could tell he was not legitimately mad, and that the knife comment was just for show.

  Junior was still shouting as Martha turned off the TV and motioned for us to line up at the door. Didi couldn’t stand still, and I saw him raise his eyebrows as Martha came closer. He started flapping the ears on his hat and singing some opera song I’d never heard. But knowing Didi, he’d probably claim he wrote the opera himself years ago and that it won a bunch of awards. Like, all the awards.

  Martha told Didi to calm down, so he took his hat off and started swinging it around. He leaned back, yelping and shouting, “Gotta get me that eight seconds for a score!” and acting like he was holding onto a rope like a true bull rider. Didi then dropped his hat and looked at Martha and started running around the room, flapping his arms and yelling, “Fly like butter, sting like a flea!”

  Martha looked super annoyed and waited for him to stop. But he didn’t.

  His whole act was way over the top, but Martha wasn’t going to question Didi because then she’d have to log his outburst in the shift notes that night. She bent over to pick up his hat, and it was time for me to get her keycard.

  Leah was supposed to help, but she stayed in her seat and looked nervous. I didn’t want Martha to hear or feel the keycard being clipped, so I stood there unsure of what to do.

  That’s when something happened that I am still not quite sure how to explain because it went against everything I knew about the guy: Wolf looked at me, then at Leah, then took off in a sprint in Junior’s direction yelling, “Hi-Ho, Silver!” as he jumped onto Junior’s back. He started yelling, “Hyah! Hyah! Go, boy! Hyah!” as he kicked his feet into Junior’s ribcage like he was spurring a horse.

  I almost didn’t get the keycard because I was so shocked, but as Martha turned to help with Junior, I grabbed the card. I know she didn’t feel it because she was so surprised by Wolf’s outburst, as we all were, I’m sure.

  It looked like Junior was laughing but still trying to maintain his serious and angry demeanor.

  That’s when Leah stood up, perhaps encouraged by Wolf, and screamed at the top of her lungs. I quickly covered my ears like the rest of the group. Well, except for Wolf. He was still shouting, “Hyah!”

  The scream brought Martha running back our way. She looked at Leah, who was standing next to me, with a shocked expression.

  “I just was curious how loud I could scream,” said Leah, her face turning pink.

  “My goodness, child,” said Martha. “You were all acting fine during the movie. And it wasn’t even a good one. Now you’re on one—all of you. I wish you had smiles like those kids on the screen. And quit all that yelling and flapping,” she said to Didi.

  “The Magic Schoolbus!” said Didi.

  I don’t think Didi meant to say it, but it seemed to fit the moment just fine.

  Martha just shook her head and gave Didi back his hat. She opened the door, holding her hand out to lead us into the hallway.

  Jenkins had Wolf under control, and Junior was on his way to the suicide watch room.

  Everything was working out just fine—and that made me nervous. No plans ever work out that smoothly.

  Who would have guessed Wolf would come through for us? Wow. Maybe Wolf was a lot more coherent than any of us thought. He never let on that he was listening to what we had talked about in the chapel. In fact, he always looked so uninterested that we all thought he just walked around with us and nothing more. Turns out we were wrong, and it was nice to be wrong about Wolf.

  I was sure the other slip-resistant bootie was about to drop. Like, Martha would notice her keycard missing, or Wolf would suddenly start saying something other than asking for his horse and totally give us all up.

  But that didn’t happen. We walked to our individual rooms and sat in silence for over an hour. I stared at my watch and was careful to move every few minutes so I didn’t fall asleep. The pills I was on made me quite sleepy and hungry. I flipped through The Real Inspector Hound and made sure I’d found every bill hidden in the pages, and pocketed the cash.

  I’d probably put on a few more pounds over the last week, but I was careful not to speculate or feel my stomach or anything. Wasn’t worth my time. I’d already spent hours talking with Ramirez about the weight gain, and he kept telling me different ways to handle those intrusive thoughts. I’m not saying it all worked, but I was getting better at keeping my hands by my side and leaving my stomach alone.

  I decided to read because I had to keep my mind from wandering back to my anxious thoughts of the escape. It was difficult because I had the keycard in the pocket of my sweats, and I kept turning it, my palms hot. I wanted to wash my hands after holding the keycard, but I waited because the plan required that I wait.

  To keep from obsessing, I opened up Waiting for Godot and read more about Vladimir and Estragon, and I was just getting to the scene where they started swapping hats in this really fast-moving part when I looked at my watch and realized it was almost time.

  It was tricky reading by moonlight, but when I’d tried turning on my light, Martha shouted, “Lights out!” But that was good news: Martha was out there reading, which meant that Potts and Jenkins were in their places too, most likely.

  I considered writing Martha a note, just to let her know that we would be okay and that we were sorry about putting her through all of this. But I didn’t. I regretted it later, but at the time I was too nervous, too worried she might find the note before we got far enough away from the hospital.

  Five minutes later, I knocked on my door.

  “Bathroom,” I said.

  I could hear Martha’s heavy sigh on the other side of the door, and I listened as she struggled to get up from her chair. It sounded like quite the ordeal, shifting papers and gasps and grunts.

  As I walked to the bathroom, I heard Fitz knock on his door, and Martha told me to hurry. She turned away, and I realized I wouldn’t have to tell her I was seeing Jenkins about my pill or anything. I walked past both the pharmacy and Potts, who looked like he was reading something on the computer.

  Fitz was in the process of making up some story about needing to see Jenkins about his pill when I heard another knock: Leah. I was amazed everything was moving so precisely. When in need of precision, courage, and proper execution, just look to the adolescent psych ward. That was probably a pretty popular phrase, right? I bet it’s on some poster in the offices of all the most powerful CEOs out there, or used as a movie tagline. Or it should be.

  Fitz turned the corner and walked my way just as Martha was nearing Leah’s door, or so I hoped. I mean, I couldn’t see Martha at that point. We stood behind a fake ficus tree near Potts’s station by the front door and hunched into the shadows. Thankfully the hospital was all about conserving energy, so only half the lights were on at night, making it easier to hide.

  I felt Fitz’s body heat and smelled his scent—all guys have a scent. I’m sure all girls do, too, but it’s impossible to know how you smell, right? Anyway, we both watched as Leah came booking around the corner at a full sprint. She was a fast little girl. Her feet padded against the tiles as she zipped by the front desk and down the hall. It was nice to see her leg it like that.

  Potts almost fell off his chair when he heard Martha scream Leah�
��s name. He opened his door and took off after Leah, who was laughing, and I almost laughed out loud with her.

  Martha came huffing around the corner and looked annoyed and tired and maybe like she thought it was a little funny that she was chasing a girl at midnight down a hall in a psych ward. Martha shouted Leah’s name again, and it’s the last thing we heard.

  Fitz and I were out the door.

  I had the keycard in my hand. “What are we supposed to do with this?” I whispered to Fitz. “She’ll notice, and we’ll be caught before we get anywhere.”

  I’d spent an entire week after our Sunday talk coming up with plans for numerous scenarios that were not probable but simple and maybe even likely. But, of course, I hadn’t planned for this specific moment. And, of course, we’d missed a few things. Isn’t that always the case?

  “Slide it back under the door,” Fitz whispered.

  “What? Why?”

  “If you slide it far enough, maybe she’ll think it fell off while she was running after Leah. Hurry!”

  Fitz grabbed the card and slid it as far as he could. Moments later, we heard Martha’s voice from down the hall. We took off in a sprint, only slowing down when we reached the elevator bank.

  “We just walk out the door?” I said.

  “To the ER. Then out the door,” he said. “Nobody looks twice at people leaving the ER in a sad sartorial state,” Fitz said as we rode the elevator down to the main level. “Pretty good word, huh? Sartorial. Picked it up from Ninja Assassin Protocol 4.”

  I was blinking so rapidly that I only caught glimpses of Fitz. The elevator doors opened, and Fitz walked me to the ER. He could tell I wasn’t doing so hot. I took deeper breaths and gathered my emotions before we stepped into the lit hallway of the ER. I knew there would be a lot of people, and I couldn’t show any signs of abnormal behavior.

  Fitz held my hand and walked with purpose. “If you’re confident,” he said under his breath, “nobody will think twice about what you’re doing or why.”